


Things That You Remember

by heggsys



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: M/M, Single Parents, Were-Creatures, a couple of AUs, im sorry, most of the characters that aren't bruce and jack are only mentioned, not v many, shit got dirty in the later chapters, skip 'lace' if u dont want to read sex, there is one chapter that is a little explicit but not a whole lot, this is also a writing challenge so yeah
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-03
Updated: 2016-06-11
Packaged: 2018-07-12 00:51:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 30
Words: 15,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7077712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heggsys/pseuds/heggsys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Collection of minifics.</p><p>also i think these were all supposed to be romantic and i messed it up along the way i'm sorry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Fingetips

“Stop touching me,” Bruce murmured, shuffling away a bit on the bed. His arms were stretched out above his head, and his shirt was pushed up, caused by Jack’s wandering hands.

Jack smiled up at him, and kissed his stomach, then ran his fingertips down Bruce’s thighs. “You feel very soft,” Jack said, rubbing Bruce’s thigh.

Bruce batted his hand away, and a small smile crossed his lips. “You’re only saying,” Bruce said.

“Not true,” Jack said, pressing his nose against Bruce’s tummy.

Bruce grabbed his hands, and lined up their fingers. “Stop that,” he said, causing Jack to roll his eyes. Jack shook his head before placing a hand back down on Bruce’s stomach.

“Well, I am telling the truth,” Jack said, laying his head down on Bruce’s stomach, his fingers tracing designs over his stomach. “I could fall asleep like this.”

“I’d recommend that you didn’t,” Bruce chuckled lightly, and Jack smiled up at him.

Both of them went quiet, Jack humming as he traced track designs over Bruce’s stomach. Bruce, who was irritated by the feeling of Jack’s fingertips against his skin at first, was slowly growing fond of it. He found himself feeling drowsy, being lulled to sleep by the sensation. It just felt . . . nice, to say the least.

When Jack heard a soft snore, he glanced up to see Bruce fast asleep; his head bowed slightly and turned to the left, with his left bicep cushioning the side of his face.

Jack smiled a little bit, then kissed Bruce’s stomach, and rearranged them so they were lying side by side. He covered them with a blanket, then pulled Bruce close. Bruce immediately curled into him with a soft hum, and Jack rubbed his hand against Bruce’s hip as he fell asleep.


	2. Acceptance

_“Patty and I are getting married.”_

Two hours had passed since Bruce had told Jack that, and it was still replaying over and over in his head. They were getting married. Patty and Bruce were getting married.

He didn’t know why this was such a shock. Of _course_ they were going to get married, they had only been dating for three years, maybe a bit more. His parents were probably wondering what the hold up was.

It also wasn’t like Jack wasn’t married. He was, he also had a child with her, and were expecting another one as well. It wasn’t like marriage was really going to change their situation at all, was it?

_Was it?_

It wasn’t that hard already for the two of them to find time with each other, since the two of them worked together and they often used that as an excuse for the two of them to find a hotel room to stay together for a bit.

But when Bruce and Patty get married, priorities will change. Bruce will be expected to be with his wife more and to try to have a baby within the first year of marriage, so there’s _that_. Not to mention Bruce is thinking of starting his own racing team, meaning he’d go off on his own and be busy with that too. Jack was thinking of doing the same, so if both of them were busy trying to get teams up and running as well as spending time with their families . . .

Jack shivered at the thought. They would get no time together at all, which worried Jack. What if Bruce stopped loving him or stopped wanting to spend time with him? It was a dumb thing to be worried about because this was _Bruce_ he was talking about and he always wanted to spend time with Jack. But in Jack’s mind it was a very realistic thing to worry about.

 _If only times were a lot more tolerant,_ Jack thought, _and then we wouldn’t be going through this_. But the era they lived in wasn’t tolerant, and they had to deal with this idiotic stuff every day. Sneaking around like children, having to hide love bites, and having to _tell them_ to not leave any marks at all because you don’t want to risk it. It’s stupid.

Jack shook his head, and glanced towards the bathroom where Bruce was taking a shower. A thought ran through his head; _will this be one of the last nights I get to spend with him?_

He started to feel sick at that.

The door opened, and Bruce walked out, his hair in all directions. He smiled when he saw Jack, but then it dropped when he saw how pale Jack’s face was, and he approached him slowly. Bruce made to sit in Jack’s lap and Jack let him, making room.

“Are you okay?” Bruce asked, wrapping his arms around Jack’s neck and running his fingers through the hair at the back of his head.

“I’m fine.”

“You don’t seem like it.” Bruce slid his other hand out from behind Jack’s head to cup his face, and concern very evident in his eyes.

“It’s just . . . do you think we’ll still have this when you’re married?” Jack asked, placing his hand over the one on his cheek.

Bruce thought for a moment, his eyes darting down to Jack’s chest and bitting at his lip. “I’d like to hope so. Just because I’m getting married to please my parents doesn’t mean that stuff like this has to change, does it?” The last part he glanced up at Jack, as if he was asking him for the answer.

“I don’t know if Patty’s the type of person who’d want you around the house all the time when you’re married,” Jack said, “that’s why I’m worried.”

“She understands that what I do needs a lot of care,” Bruce pointed out, “and with that care that means I’m going to be gone a lot. If I’m gone because of the team or because of you, she’ll never know. It doesn’t have to change.”

Jack stroked his thumb over the back of Bruce’s hand. “I know,” he said, kissing Bruce’s palm.

Bruce watched him for a second, studying his face. Then he rolled off to the side, laying flat down on his back. Jack flopped down next to him, and Bruce immediately cuddled up to him. “We’ll be okay, in one way or another,” Bruce murmured against his chest. “We participate in the most dangerous sport in the world, quite possibly, and we haven’t let that stop us. We don’t even question it. Why should a marriage stop that?”

Bruce’s eyes then fluttered shut, while Jack laid there and stared at the ceiling. Bruce did have a point. It was stated very bluntly, but he had a very good point. He wasn’t full ready to accept it, but he felt just a little bit closer


	3. Hurt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is from an AU I haven't started yet where Bruce and Jack adopt Alain and a bunch of shit goes down.

“You couldn’t have told me you wanted to break up _before_ I left my life behind in New Zealand _and_ before we adopted a baby?” Bruce asked, staring at Jack accusingly.

Jack was standing at the door with his back against it and his bags at his feet. He didn’t even have the guts to meet Bruce’s gaze. “You know I’m not doing this because I’m unhappy,” Jack replied, his voice low. He glanced towards the living room, where Alain was asleep on the floor.

“Then stay. You don’t have to go marry her just because she’s having your fucking kid. What kind of household were you raised in?” Bruce’s voice got a little bit higher. “As far as I know most people tell their kids to marry who they love, not who they fucked on ‘accident’,” Bruce put air quotes around accident, because he was still under the firm belief that it wasn’t exactly that at all.

“It’s what _I_ feel is right,” Jack replied.

“Oh? And what’s right is marrying a broad you barely even know so you can have a perfect nuclear family?” Bruce asked, hissing low under his breath. “Is that what’s _right_ to you?”

“Bruce—”

“If you truly loved me you’d stay,” Bruce said, “instead of leaving me here with a baby in a town I didn’t even want to fucking live in, where I have no one—” Bruce stopped himself, tears springing to his eyes. He forced them back, and Jack stared at him with wide eyes. “I don’t have anyone Jack. You dragged me here because of your job, and now I have no one.” Bruce’s face crumpled, and Jack looked away. “Please stay. I know you don’t want to leave. Please.”

“I can’t. I’m sorry.”

Bruce’s eyes immediately lost the sadness in them and turned right back into anger. “Okay then. Go. I don’t fucking care,” he snapped, turning away.

There was silence, then Bruce heard Jack pick up his bags and open the door. It closed with a soft click, and only then did Bruce sink to the floor, sobbing like a baby. He pressed his back against the wall and drew his legs up to his chest, burying his face in his knees. His shoulders trembled as he cried, and he just felt so _weak_. So hurt by Jack’s confessions and departure, he felt like he couldn’t do _anything._ But he had too. Because there was a baby in the other room that needed him. So he picked himself up, and tried to carry on, ignoring the ache in his chest.


	4. Game

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From a werewolf AU I'm working on *finger guns*

Playing with werewolf-Bruce was weird. He was just like an overgrown lap dog, and Jack didn’t know how to deal with that. He was fine with Bruce being a werewolf—of course he was, or he would have brought a gun with him after their first encounter—but he just didn’t know how to deal with everything that was the exact opposite of what he was told as a child. He was told werewolves could be vicious, and attack you, but most would just mind their own business. He was told werewolves could be: quite, shy, intimidating, irritable, angry, vicious, et cetera. But not _lap dogs_.

Bruce let out a puff of air, his tail wagging happily as Jack dragged his fingers through his fur. Bruce’s large head was lying in his lap, and his eyes were closed. He seemed to be asleep, or at the very least dozing. Jack preferred this way over the moment they had earlier where Bruce tried to sit in his lap.

That was an awkward thing to explain, considering human-Bruce could fit in his lap perfectly fine and werewolf-Bruce hadn’t seemed to grasp he doubled in size.

“You’re such a cute puppy,” Jack found himself saying, and then his jaw immediately snapped shut. Bruce’s ears perked up, and he looked up at Jack, looking quite curious.

He didn’t look offended, so Jack said, “Who’s a good puppy?” When Bruce wagged his tail even faster, Jack laughed and said, “You are! You’re a good puppy!” Bruce lifted his head and touched his snout to Jack’s face, licking his cheek.

Jack grinned, rubbing Bruce’s fur, glancing around a bit. He found a nearby stick, and picked it up. Bruce’s eyes followed his hand, and he backed away a bit when he saw the stick.

“Wanna play fetch?” Jack asked, standing up. Bruce looked at him, uncertain. “Oh, uh, you guys probably don’t know what fetch is do you? Um, okay, so what happens is I throw the stick and you run after it, then bring it back to me. Okay?” Bruce still looked uncertain, but watched the stick anyway, anticipation in his gaze.

“Alright . . . go fetch!” Jack yelled, then tossed the stick as far as he could. Bruce’s ears perked up, and he yipped loudly before chasing after it. The stick curved slightly, going into the river, and Bruce just jumped in without a second thought. His large jaws chomped down on it, and he ran back out of the river to Jack. He dropped the stick at Jack’s feet, panting a bit.

“Want me to throw it again?” Bruce barked, and Jack chucked it again, laughing as Bruce chased it down.


	5. Lips

Jack hadn’t meant to kiss Bruce. Or, that’s what his alcohol distorted mind told him. Maybe it was on purpose, maybe it was not. Who knows. All Jack knows is that Bruce’s lips started to look really inviting when they were on that podium, and that thought hadn’t left Jack’s mind sense.

Bruce’s lips felt just as Jack thought they would when he kissed him, although the real thing was twice as better as he imagined. They were soft and still sticky from the champagne.

Bruce dug his fists into Jack’s overalls, hauling their bodies closer then they already were.

Jack kissed him hard, and Bruce shoved his tongue in Jack’s mouth after biting down on Jack’s bottom lip to gain entrance.

“Rude,” Jack whispered as they pulled away briefly, and Bruce rolled his eyes before dragging him towards the bed.

Bruce flopped down, and stared up at Jack as he unbuckled his belt with one hand. Jack stood over him, watching as Bruce unzipped his pants and shoved a hand in, stroking himself. Jack moaned slightly at the sight, before his gaze turned upwards to Bruce’s face.

His eyes were shut and his mouth was in a wide ‘o’ shape. His lips were puffy and red, which to Jack looked painful. He felt a little ashamed that he did that, but then Bruce’s eyes opened and he beckoned Jack closer. “Having second thoughts?”

Jack shook his head as he bent over Bruce and raised a hand to his face, running his thumb over his bottom lip. “Not at all.”


	6. Blush

Bruce blushed a lot more then Jack remembered. Of course Jack hadn’t seen him in over a year, but still, you would think something like that wouldn’t have struck him as odd if it happened a lot.

It didn’t matter what Jack did, Bruce would blush over everything. If their hands brushed while passing the salt, his face would turn red immediately. Don’t even get Jack started on how red his face would turn if Jack asked to see some of his car designs.

  
When Jack had originally met him, Bruce was fifteen and was very eager to show Jack all of his car designs. Now every time Jack mentioned this to seventeen year old Bruce, his face would turn red and he would bury his sketch books underneath a pile of clothes.

Jack wondered just what the hell was going, and why exactly Bruce was doing that so often, but then he figured it out right before he left for Europe.

Bruce had a crush on him. It became clear that this was the issue when Jack asked Bruce while they were going to the airport if he had a girlfriend, and then he spluttered, looking out the window. Taken aback by it, he had asked if Bruce had a crush on someone at least. Bruce had turned, stared at Jack for a solid thirty seconds, a blush slowly spreading across his face and he muttered, “ _Yes._ ”

It wasn’t until they got to the airport and Bruce hugged Jack just a little too long for him to be one hundred percent sure.

Strangely enough, he returned the boy’s feelings, but he wasn’t going to say anything in case his assumption was wrong.

Not to mention Les would literally strange him with his own belt if he found out, and out of all the ways to go, death by asphyxiation isn’t in Jack’s top ten.

 

So, he stayed quiet, and let that information drop from his mind.


	7. Stress

Jack woke up in the middle of the night to find an empty space next to him. It was cold. He scrubbed a hand over his face, and sighed.

 _Where the hell could he be?_ He thought, yawning. He placed his feet on the carpet, and yawned again. He glanced around the room, feeling like something was off.

He stared at the desk, deciding that that was why he felt off. He looked to see if anything was out of place, and he was about to assume that he was just imagining things when he noticed the folders for the McLaren Project was gone.

With a sigh, Jack slowly got up and trudged out of the bedroom. As soon as he opened the door, light slowly appeared from down the hallway. He pinched the bridge of his nose, and made his way down the hallway to the living room.

Bruce was perched on the couch, feet tucked under him and his back bent over the book in his hands.

Jack walked up behind him, and slowly placed his hand on Bruce’s back. He didn’t even move. “It’s one in the morning,” Jack whispered as Bruce leaned back and stretched.

“I know. This project isn’t going anywhere and I need to get it moving if I can even _hope_ to make it to an F1 race,” Bruce said, scribbling little notes into the upper corner of the sheet. Bruce’s shoulders were tense under his hands, and Jack sighed.

“Please come back to bed. The project will be done when it is. You can’t force it,” Jack said, kneeling down behind the couch. “Isn’t Teddy Mayer helping you with the project?”

“Mhm.”

“I’m sure he can handle some of it,” Jack said, “Please come back to bed and forget about it.”

“Let me work a little longer—” Bruce begged, but the book was pried from his hands and tossed onto the coffee table. He pouted, and glared at Jack.

“You’ll thank me tomorrow. Now, get up so we can head back to bed,” Jack said, dragging him up. Bruce let Jack lead him through the house and back upstairs, but not without one last glance at his book.


	8. Trying

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> another parent au! thing

_Do not let yourself fall into his trap again,_ Bruce thought as he stood at the sink, watching Jack trying to interact with Alain but the latter leaving him hanging. _Do not let yourself love him because you’ll only end up where you were before._

He turned his head downwards towards the sink, trying to ignore that feeling in his stomach. Where he was before was a bad place, and that was definitely somewhere he’d never want to be again. The horrified look on Alain’s face when he saw pictures of him shortly after Jack had left was enough where it was definitely something he couldn’t let happen.

His hands wrapped around the mug as he listened to Jack tell Alain about his children, and he knew if he looked up Jack would be showing off pictures. Bruce’s lips pursed into a thin line, and his took a sip of coffee.

He would just need to try to keep himself far away from Jack the whole time he was staying with them. If he did that, by the time Jack left it’d be like he wasn’t even there.

 _That should work out, shouldn’t it?_ He thought as he brought the cup to his lips again.

“Papa!” Alain called, causing Bruce to look up. Alain was resting on the floor in front of the rocking chair, and Jack was as close to Alain as he would let him. “Come here, I want to tell him a story but I can’t remember it all. Will you help?”

  
“Ah,” Bruce looked between the two of them, then shrugged and said, “Sure,” before walking towards them. He sat down next to Alain, and crossed his legs. He kept his eyes on the floor in front of him, and didn’t look up as he helped Alain tell the story.

Or at least he was trying to keep his eyes in front of him and no where else, but his gaze kept wandering upwards to Jack’s face whenever Alain said a part of the story that was funny. He wanted to see him laugh, he hadn’t seen it in years, and he knew that it was a bad idea, because that was one of the things that had made him fall in love with Jack.

But he couldn’t help himself, and sometimes he could be really stupid.

He tried to not melt at the sight of his wide smile, and the way his whole body shook with laughter. But when he felt himself lean against the chair, and his whole body relax, he knew he was screwed again. Alain must have known too, because right in the middle of the story, he turned and looked at him with sad eyes.

Jack looked between the two of them, wondering what was going on exactly, and asked, “Alain, you were right in the middle of the story! What happened when you went on that ride?”

Alain—who was apparently transfixed by his father’s face—looked at Jack again. “Oh, well, you see—” he continued, his hands waving around dramatically. Bruce smiled a bit, and tried not to show his uneasiness.


	9. Goosebumps

“Shit,” Bruce said as he tried to walk across the creek. “Fuck.”

Jack laughed as Bruce stumbled and he fell into the water. “Having a bit of trouble?” Jack asked as he helped him up.

Bruce glared at him, his whole body soaked and goosebumps rising along his arms. “I’m going to catch a cold,” he said, looking quite miserable.

“Shouldn’t have fallen,” Jack replied, and he grinned at the glare he received.

“Shouldn’t have gone creek walking,” Bruce shot back, trying to steady himself. He took a step forward, and then another, shivering the whole time before letting go of Jack. “Why did you decide to go creek walking on one of the coldest days?”

“I never said you had to come with me,” Jack said, bounding a head of Bruce, who was still shuffling behind him with his arms wrapped around his body.

“I would have felt bad for letting you walk alone.”

“What about now?”

“I could care less to be honest, I just want to get warm,” Bruce replied, his shoulders shaking, and his hands running rapidly up and down his biceps.

Jack grinned. “We’ll just walk a little further down the creek and then turn back, okay?”

Bruce grumbled, his shoulders rising.

“I’ll even make you some tea,” Jack offered, and Bruce perked up. He moved a little faster, and started to catch up with Jack, when he suddenly tripped again, falling face first into the water.

“God—”

“Shake it off!” Jack called.

“Don’t tell me what to do!”


	10. Irritable

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> apparently bruce's hip pain would get so bad at some points he'd get so irritated he'd cry and people always stayed away from him for a bit. i don't if it got as bad as i wrote it like but if it gets to the point where people have to stay away from you i can assume it can only be one of the worst types of pain there is.

Bruce was never someone you wanted to piss off after a race, especially after a bad one. For one, he would already be irritated because of his hip, and then there’s the fact that he did terribly will only add to it.

Bruce was sitting on the pit wall, looking like he was in a particularly bad mood. The McLaren mechanics were steering far away from him, knowing that until he climbed off of that pit wall he didn’t want to talk to anyone.

Well, Jack was going to fucking talk to him and he was going to like it.

When he sat down next to Bruce, Bruce gave him the, ‘are you shitting me?’ look, which was probably a sign for Jack to get out of there before he blew up but he remained where he was.

“If you sit here and try to make me feel better, my mechanics might get ideas,” Bruce muttered, glaring down at the ground.

“Your mechanics know very well that there are different standards for me,” Jack replied. Bruce crossed his arms, and turned his head away from Jack. Jack frowned, and moved a little closer. “Are you okay?”

“Absolutely fine."

“You don’t seem like it, normally you’ll just ignore me,” Jack said, “It has to be something more.”

“Maybe I’m just more irritable then normal. Maybe my hip just hurts more then normal. Maybe it’s the apocalypse, I don’t know,” Bruce mumbled.

“I have some of your medication if you need—” Jack started to offer, but got interrupted.

“I’m fine I told you!” Bruce yelled, getting up and clenching his fist. The mechanics looked up, and some of the other teams were now staring at them too. There were angry tears in Bruce’s eyes, and he looked at all the observers, before limping quickly towards his motor home.

Jack sat, staring dumbfounded at the spot next to him.

Dan Gurney—who was only a few feet away at the time—strolled up to him. “What the fuck did you do?”

“I have no idea.”

“You know Bruce is always irritated after a race because of his hip and it’s even worse after a bad race,” Dan said.

“But this seems . . . different.”

“Go find out then,” Dan suggested, then strolled off towards Jim’s garage.

Jack thought about it for a bit. Would that be such a good idea? Considering Bruce just about bit his head off just then?

Sighing, he got up and walked after him.

He found Bruce in his motor home trying to lower himself onto the couch, one hand gripping his left leg and he was panting rapidly. “Get out Jack,” he said through gritted teeth, landing on the couch with a thump and he cried out.

  
Jack immediately rushed forward. “You idiot,” he hissed through his teeth, helping Bruce get situated. “You should have told me it was your leg! I know you had a bad race, but that doesn’t mean that when I ask you if you’re okay or if it’s something else that you get to make a scene!”

“It just hurts _so bad_ ,” Bruce whined, “one of the mechanics tried to help me out of the car and they kept pulling when I asked them to stop and it hurt my leg and I didn’t want to make them feel bad and let’s not forget the race—”

“Be quiet,” Jack said, and Bruce’s jaw snapped shut, sniffling. “Now I’m going to get your painkillers, you stay here.”

Bruce’s tears dried, and he nodded, his breathing slowing. Jack headed towards the closest, and rummaged through Bruce’s bags at the front of it, before finding the pill bottle. He took a water bottle out of the cooler and then walked back over to Bruce, popping out a pill before handing both objects over.

Bruce swallowed the pill, took a giant swig of water, and sighed as he leaned against the couch, sniffling a bit. Jack sat down on the floor next to him, and took his hand.

“I’m sorry,” Bruce whispered, “that I made a scene.”

“Be quiet and sleep,” Jack replied, using his free hand to brush Bruce’s hair away from his face. Bruce hummed, and closed his eyes.

Jack prayed that Bruce would feel better and be a little less irritated then before, although he felt that’d somehow be asking for too much.


	11. Chocolate

Bruce was staring at Jack, his face completely blank. That worried Jack, and he went to excuse himself when Bruce finally spoke.

“You . . . bought me chocolates,” he said, glancing down at the box of Whittaker’s chocolate in front of him.

Jack bit his lip. “Yes,” he replied, staring at the box as well. Bruce was still staring at the box as if it was a foreign object, instead of something he had grown up with and was something he always said he missed about New Zealand.

“I got into a racing accident, and you brought me chocolate,” Bruce reiterated, and Jack felt a blush slowly cross his face.

“I thought you’d need it as something to make you feel better. It was a particularly nasty crash . . .” Jack stated, glancing at Bruce’s knee. He looked back up at his face, and asked, “did I do something wrong? You’re acting like I did something wrong . . .”

Bruce picked up the box, his fingers running along the sides under the lid to pop off the tape. “Not at all,” he said, reaching out to take Jack’s hand after he got the lid off.

Without wasting a second, Jack gripped his hand tightly. “Then why were you staring at it like it offended you?”

Bruce shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m just surprised you took the time to get this,” he said, using his free hand to pick up a piece of chocolate. “The only thing anyone’s brought me that I was happy to see was when Patty snuck in food. Other then that the only thing people have brought me is cards and pity, even though all I did was hurt my knee a bit.”

“You’d think that you are dying from the way they are acting,” Jack said with a smile. Bruce took a bite of the chocolate, nodding at Jack’s words before holding out the rest, offering it to him.

He shook his head, and Bruce shoved the rest in his mouth.

“I know that in this sport anything can happen, but it has been three days. I think I’m okay,” Bruce said, picking up another piece of chocolate.

Jack smiled, brushing his thumb over the back of Bruce’s hand. “I know it annoys you that people are acting like this, but you really gave us all a scare. Imagine how I felt when I got out of the car and the first thing I hear is that you were knocked unconscious and taken to the hospital?”

He smiled apologetically. “I know, but it’s been three days. I think it’s been long enough for people to stop being so worried,” he said, gripping Jack’s hand tightly. “These are things that happen in the sport after all, and if you get worried about every little thing, your life is just going to be filled with worry.”

“Try telling them that,” Jack said, and Bruce sighed before grabbing another piece of chocolate.

“These are really good, thank you,” he said, licking the chocolate off of his lips.

“You’re welcome,” Jack said, glancing at the clock and sighing when he saw it was about time for him to leave. He stood up to kiss Bruce on the head, and as he leaned over, he noticed a giant bump on the top of his head. He lightly touched it, and Bruce flinched.

“Ow,” Bruce grumbled, leaning away from his hand and shoving another square of chocolate in his mouth. He used his free hand to bat away Jack’s. “Don’t touch it.”

“Have you been putting ice on it?”

“I only have two hands, and it gets pretty tiring to hold it up all the time,” Bruce replied, glancing up towards Jack.

“Hm.” He stood there, thinking for a second.

“What are you thinking about?” Bruce asked, watching him walk into the hallway. A few minutes later, Jack came back in with a bag of ice and a towel.

He sat down on the edge of the bed, and slowly placed the bag on the bump. Bruce flinched at first, and then got used to it. “Eh, Betty won’t mind if I’m home a little late, will she?”

Bruce smiled at him, and ate another piece of chocolate. “I hope not,” he said, then looked down at the box of Whittaker’s. “Oh man, I better stop before I eat this whole box in a day. I know I’ll regret it tomorrow.”

Jack smiled as he adjusted the bag. “I can get you another box if you’d like.”

Bruce perked up. “Seriously?”

Jack nodded, and Bruce smiled. “You’re amazing. I love you so much.”

“I know,” he replied, grinning as Bruce kissed his cheek. “I love you too.”


	12. Dancing

“We can’t do this here. What if we get caught?” Bruce whispered as Jack dragged him out into the hallway.

Jack gave him an amused look. “You’re scared about getting caught for once?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

Bruce blushed. “We’re at a wedding with our wives, they’re bound to come looking for us,” he said as Jack opened a door before ushering him in.

Bruce looked around. It was an empty conference room, all of the chairs and tables had been moved out hours before to be moved into the dance hall. The music wasn’t as loud as before, but it could still hear it through the walls. It would have to do.

Jack locked the door, and then turned towards Bruce. “They’ll only look for us if there’s a slow song, and you know how unlikely that is. Well, that’s if Jochen can get it changed quickly enough,” Jack said as he walked towards Bruce and pulled him close.

“I’m sure his wife will try to stop him,” Bruce said, feeling a little bit awkward as Jack wrapped an arm around his waist, considering he had no idea what to do with his other hand. So, he placed it on Jack’s shoulder, and tried to keep the blush from spreading across his cheeks.

“If we hear a slow song come on, we’ll leave immediately, okay?” Jack said as they started to sway.

“Mm,” Bruce said, sighing a bit and resting his head against Jack’s shoulder. “I’ll pray to God that Jochen gets the song changed before he wife can grab him.” Jack’s hand slid down to the middle of his back, and he laughed.

“Why, are you comfortable?” he asked, as Bruce’s hand brushed the hair at the back of his neck.

“Yes,” Bruce replied, closing his eyes. “I wish we could do this in the dance hall without being judged.” Jack felt the tension grow in Bruce’s shoulders, and he could feel himself grow increasingly bitter at the idea.

Deciding that they can’t think about things like that when they should be grateful that they can even get moments like this, Jack decided to take drastic action.

Jack pushed Bruce away, and he let out an indignant, “Jack!” before he abruptly let go of one hand and tried to twirl him.

Bruce lost his balance because he didn’t move his feet quickly enough to keep up, and suddenly his feet were out from under him. He fell into Jack’s unprepared arms, and they both tumbled to the floor. Both of them burst into laughter, and Bruce said, “That’s what you get for trying to be spontaneous!”

“I’m sorry, I thought you’d be prepared,” Jack chuckled, wrapping his arms around Bruce and holding him close. “Did I hurt your leg?” he asked, suddenly serious and looking over his body to see if he was okay.

Bruce rolled over so he was lying on top of Jack, and cupped his face. “I’m _fine_ ,” he said, grinning and giggling like a child. “I’m just wondering if you’re okay, after all you did take pretty much all of the fall.”

“Never better,” Jack said, leaning forward to kiss Bruce on the nose. “Guess I won’t be trying that again without giving you a heads up.”

“That might have gone over a little better if one of my legs wasn’t shorter then the other,” he replied, grinning down at Jack.

“Maybe. Also if you weren’t so clumsy,” Jack teased, causing Bruce to roll his eyes and sit up. Jack coughed, and taped Bruce on the leg. He immediately rolled off next to him, and took Jack’s hand.

“Thank you for this.”

“For what? Dancing with you until I tried to be suave and caused us to fall?” Jack asked.

“For the laugh. For making our relationship feel just a little bit more normal,” he said, rolling onto his side and staring him in the eyes. “Even though we had to lock ourselves away in a conference room, I can’t thank you enough.”

Jack reached over and put a hand on Bruce’s cheek, stroking it with his thumb. “You’re welcome baby,” he said, leaning over and kissing Bruce. They laid like that, legs tangled together and just kind of enjoying each other’s presence when they heard the music slow down in the other room and stay that way.

Jack watched as Bruce’s eyes lost their light, and he abruptly sat up. “Guess we better get going,” he said, staring at the floor in front of him.

“Bruce—”

Bruce shook his head. “We said we’d go back if a slow song came on, and one did,” he said, then tried to smile, “besides, I’d like to dance with Amanda and Patty at least once tonight.”

He leaned over to kiss Jack one more time, before getting up and unlocking the door. He walked out without one last look back.

Jack sighed, and covered his face with his forearms. Why did life have to be so difficult?


	13. Teeth

“What did you _do?_ ” Bruce asked, kneeling down in front of Jack and taking the towel from his bloodied hands.

Jack flinched as Bruce gripped a little harder on his mouth, and immediately he released his grip. Jack glanced towards his work bench, and that’s when Bruce saw it.  
There were blood and teeth marks on the edge of the bench, and that was enough for Bruce to know _exactly_ what happened.

“And you called _me_ the clumsy one,” he murmured, shaking his head as Jack gave him an apologetic look. He sighed and slowly let go, giving Jack time to reach up and grab the towel. “Go into the house, I’ll find your teeth and then call the dentist to see if they can squeeze you in.”

Jack reached out and grabbed Bruce’s hand before he stood up. He was squeezing Bruce’s hand tightly, and didn’t even try to speak; hoping that whatever he was trying to say would come across with facial expressions. That apologetic look was still in his eyes, but he seemed to be trying to say something different . . .

“Oh,” Bruce said, realizing what he was trying to convey, “You’re welcome. You’re just lucky that I was here when it happened, otherwise you’d have to wait until Betty came home and I’m sure she wouldn’t be happy to see this.”

Jack smiled, but then flinched.

“Head on inside,” Bruce said, “I’ll . . . try to find your teeth.”

He helped Jack up, and then watched him slowly walk out, wincing every now and then.

He wiped the blood off of his hand onto his trousers, figuring since they were already bloodstained that it wouldn’t make a difference. _What am I going to do with him?_ he thought as he walked over to the table, and looking around for his boyfriend’s teeth.


	14. Garden

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here's more from the family au no one wanted, yay

Jack watched Bruce and Alain work in the garden from inside the house, wondering if it would be wrong to go outside with a book and sit on the porch while they worked. Not to like, stare at them or anything like that. Just for the presence while he read, so it’d feel less . . . lonely.

But he had a feeling that that was the _exact_ reason why those two had left the house and decided randomly to go work in the garden, because they needed time away from _him_.

His stomach churned at the thought, but he knew it was probably true. After all, he had never spent much time with them before now, the only people they had was each other. When Jack did visit, it was never for very long and it was always a struggle to get Alain to speak to him.

Even now, a month after he had moved back in with them, Alain barely spoke to him. The most he had said to Jack was on day one, when Jack was showing him pictures of his children and Alain was telling him stories. Other then that, the most Alain has said to him is, “Dad wants to talk to you”, “Dinner is ready”, “Pass the spaghetti”, and “I don’t like you”.

The last one hurt the most, but considering he had never been in his son’s life, it’s not at all surprising.

He should probably let them spend time in their garden together without him, and let them have their time together.

Jack sighed, and grabbed a cup out of the cabinet before filling it with water. He took a huge swig, before placing the cup in the sink, grabbing his book off the counter, and heading into the living room.

\---

“He just makes me so _frustrated_ , papa,” Alain said as he tore weeds out of the ground. “He abandoned us, and then comes back how many years later asking for forgiveness and for us to take him in. How can he expect that of us? Of me? I know it must hurt him when I don’t talk, but I cannot forgive him for what he did to you.”

Bruce pursed his lips into a thin line as he checked on their cherry tomatoes. They were a little bit bigger then before, but they had not turned red yet. “I know that you’re upset that he left us, and that he barely ever came back. I know you’re upset that he missed so many important things in your life, and now is asking for your forgiveness. But there comes a point in your life where you must ignore it and move on.”

“And that’s what you’re deciding to do?” Alain asked, staring at his father as if he had grown two heads. “Just ignore it?”

“Yes, Alain, I am,” Bruce said as he walked out of the garden to fill the watering can.

Alain angrily pulled out another handful of weeds. “After what happened to you? How you were so depressed that you only had enough energy to take care of me and you lost so much weight? How you were rail thin and Jim and Dan had to move in with us because you couldn’t take care of yourself?” he asked, glaring at the ground.

Bruce pursed his lips as he turned off the hose. “Alain—” he started.

“How they didn’t leave us for a year? How _he_ came back once and you were a mess again and Dan had to threaten him to leave?” Alain continued, grabbing hold of a weed.

Bruce gripped the bucket tightly. “Be quiet,” he snapped, his hands shaking.

“No, I will not, because you need to hear this—!” Alain yelled back.

The bucket clattered to the ground, and Alain looked up abruptly to see Bruce standing there, his whole body trembling. Bruce lowered himself to his knees, and covered his mouth with a hand. “Be quiet,” Bruce whispered, looking deeply shaken. “Please, just be quiet.”

“Papa—” Alain began, his voice suddenly small, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean too . . .” He sounded like a small child once again, the one that would always appear in the doorway to Bruce’s room whenever he heard him crying, desperate to find a way for him to stop. Like the child who was always so scared to make Bruce upset, that he barely did anything.

“I know you didn’t,” Bruce replied, staring down at the watering can and all the water pouring out of it. Alain bit his lip, unsure of what to do. Bruce eventually took a deep breath, and rose to his feet. He picked the can up unceremoniously, and dumped the remaining water onto the cherry tomato plant.

“Check on the zucchini, I read somewhere that right about now they should be ready to be harvested,” Bruce said, his voice going even. “I’ll get some more water.” There were still tears in his eyes, and his body was still trembling, but he kept on like nothing was wrong.

Alain did what he was told without even a second thought, and as he harvested the zucchini, he couldn’t even bring himself to look at Bruce.

\---

Jack put his book down. The yelling outside had only lasted a couple of seconds, and he hadn’t been able to make out what they were saying, but it sounded bad. It was probably about him.

Ashamed, he picked his book back up and left to the guest room, deciding he had to do _something._


	15. Snow

“It’s snowing,” Bruce said matter-of-factly, staring out the car window with a look of wonder on his face.

Jack—who had seen snow plenty of times before and was already sick of it—only hummed in reply.

“Jack! Didn’t you hear me? It’s _snowing_ ,” Bruce said again, looking at Jack quite pointedly before turning his gaze back outside.

“Yes I heard you, and I don’t see why you’re so—oh,” Jack interrupted himself, stopping the car abruptly on the road. They were on their way home, and were out in the middle of nowhere. The likelihood of someone coming upon them was very small. He turned and looked at Bruce. “Is this your first time seeing snow?”

Bruce nodded, and gave Jack an amused look. “Have you forgotten that my family wasn’t exactly swimming in money? I’ve never been out of New Zealand before now,” he said, and looked outside the window again, his grin widening.

“Sometimes I forget that I’ve been in Europe three years longer then you,” Jack replied, slowly pressing his foot down on the accelerator to get them going again. Bruce was still staring out the window, looking absolutely fascinated and nodding in response to Jack, but he seemed to not be fully paying attention.

As soon as they got home, Bruce was jumping out of the car and into the snow. Not much had gathered, and it was fluffy snow, not the type that clumped together to make snowballs.

But Bruce didn’t seem to care, he reached down and scooped a bunch of snow in his hands and clamped his hands together.

Jack watched him for a bit from inside the car, before getting out and walked over to him. “It’s not going to clump together,” he said as Bruce opened his hands and water dripped out of his hands.

Bruce picked up another handful, and smiled at Jack. “I know,” he said, “but that doesn’t mean that I can’t do _this!_ ” He leaped forward and grabbed Jack by the front of his shirt. He shoved the handful of snow down it, causing Jack to let out a yelp.

Bruce ran off, laughing.

“You little asshole, get back here!” Jack shouted, pulling the front of his shirt away from his skin to try to get the snow out before he took off running after Bruce.


	16. Family

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow more family au who would have THOUGHT

Bruce woke up before everyone else, like usual. It was Saturday, and while neither of them had to go to work, Bruce found no use in sleeping the day away. He went to sit up in bed, but then he felt a heavy weight on one of his arms and he stopped.

He glanced towards his arm, and was not at all surprised to see Alain asleep there. But he _was_ confused as to _why_ Alain was in their bed.

Alain had just turned five not even a day ago, and had proclaimed that night that he was simply too old to sleep with his parents over ‘idiotic’ things like nightmares. Of course he was only five, and Bruce knew that children were going to not keep up on their promises, but Alain usually did so this was surprising.

He slowly pried his arm out from underneath Alain’s back, and sighed with relief when his arm stopped feeling numb. He rolled onto his side, and stared at Alain and Jack, who were both still sound asleep.  
Sunlight was pouring in through cracks in the shades, and illuminating their faces. Alain’s hair was matted to his face, and there was drool all over his cheeks. He looked like he had a bad dream or something, because his face was all sweaty as well.

Jack looked like he had seen better days too; his hair was sticking up in all directions and his face had a gleam to it too, as if he had been sweating all night.

Bruce touched the back of his hand to Alain’s forehead, and sighed when he felt how hot he was. He did the same thing to Jack, and he was about the same.

They were both sick.

Bruce sighed as Alain coughed and reached out for him. He pulled Alain close, and he instantly cuddled into Bruce, his hands clutching at his shirt. “Sh, baby,” he whispered as Alain whined. “You’re okay.”

Alain sniffled, and wiped his nose on the front of Bruce’s shirt. Bruce sighed, and just tugged Alain a little closer.

His day could get started a little late.


	17. Dinner

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is dirty i'm sorry

If Bruce didn’t move his hand away from Jack’s crouch, Jack was sure that he’d explode.

It was difficult enough trying to just eat at Bruce’s parent’s house without letting them know that Jack and Bruce were romantically involved, but with his hand so close to his crouch he’s pretty sure that this is going to go up in smoke.

Bruce just continued to smile like nothing was wrong, and ate a bite of steak with his free hand.

Bruce was deeply involved in conversation with his mother and his sister Pat, while Jack was just trying to keep a blush from rising up onto his cheeks and staying quiet.

Les—who seemed oblivious to how awkward Jack was acting—turned towards him and said, “So, Jack, Bruce tells me that you’re working on creating a team of your own?”

Jack cleared his throat, and went to speak, “Yes, I am, we’re hoping to—” Bruce’s hand moved a little bit, his fingers brushing against the outline of Jack’s cock. He coughed, and could feel his face going red. “T-to be able to race by next season.”

“Oh, really? Sounds interesting. How is the project going?”

“Well—” Jack started, and then his mind went completely blank. He could tell whatever he was saying made sense, at least, because Les was nodding his head along to whatever he was saying. But he couldn’t keep his mind off of what Bruce was doing.

At first his fingers were just circling the ever growing bulge in his jeans, and at one point he just groped him, then started palming him. When he had stopped talking to let Les ask some questions, Bruce relented and put his hand back to where it originally was.

Les stopped talking briefly to call down to the other end of the table for them to pass a plate over, and Jack took that opportunity to lean over towards Bruce. “You’re an asshole, you know that?” he whispered as Bruce removed his hand to pass the plate his father asked for over.

Bruce turned towards him, and smiled innocently. “Am I now?”

“Are you going to let me suffer or are you going to help me with this later?”

“Hm. How about I let you deal with it and I just watch?” Bruce retorted, taking the plate back and setting it in its original spot. “Considering you’re pretty piss poor at concealing that blush of yours?”

“I can’t help and you know it,” Jack said and shivered as Bruce placed his hand back on his thigh. “Please.”

“Keep yourself calm for the rest of the night, and maybe, just maybe, I’ll change my mind,” Bruce replied, and then turned his head to launch himself back into conversation with his mom.

Jack rolled his eyes, and tensed as Bruce groped him again. _Asshole_ , he thought, as he tried to involve himself in a conversation with Les.


	18. Crying

The house was silent, and considering it was Bruce’s house, it was never silent. When Patty had called him and told him that he needed to visit Bruce, he had been worried. Had something terrible happened to him? Was he in the hospital?

Patty had offered nothing, except for the fact that Bruce was fine physically, and that she and Amanda had gone to stay with her parents for the week. She was wondering if Jack could stay with him, because she was sure that Jack’s presence would make him feel better then hers.

So, he went.

And this was not what he expected to see.

Bruce was sitting in front of the couch when he arrived, and he was sobbing loudly. The front of his shirt was tear-stained and his eyes were all puffy, as if he had been crying for hours. He looked at Jack briefly, before he pressed the palm of his hands against his eyes and said in a hoarse voice, “Go away Jack.”

He closed the door and said, “No.”

Bruce didn’t reply, he just sniffed and stayed in the same position.

Jack walked over to him and sat down next to him. Bruce immediately rolled over and curled into his arms, throwing his legs over Jack’s lap and laying his head on his chest. “What happened?” Jack asked quietly. He flinched when Bruce laughed bitterly.

“You didn’t hear?” he asked, his voice grim. “Or did you just skip over it because it’s not anything new?” Jack didn’t say anything, because Bruce had a habit of pretending people could read his mind, and Jack really had no idea what he was talking about. “I killed him, Jack. He drove one of my cars and fucking died and I fucking _can’t_.” Bruce sobbed, grabbing the front of Jack’s shirt and twisting his hands into it. “I fucking killed Timmy Mayer, Jack. He’s dead because of the car I built.”

Jack felt his stomach plummet and he grew a little nauseous. “Bruce, it’s not your fault . . .” he tried to say, but Bruce interrupted him.

“It’s my fault, Jack! It is it is it is . . .” he repeated over and over, and it became muffled as he pressed his face into Jack’s shirt.

Jack felt the front of his shirt going wet, and he tried to shush Bruce, to try to calm him down, but that only sent him into hysterics. He cried harder and harder, and all Jack could do was hold him close.


	19. Anger

It had only been two days after Timmy’s passing before Bruce decided to venture outside of the house. Jack had hoped that getting some fresh air would do him some good, and decided to let him go out alone. It probably wasn’t the best idea, because when Bruce was angry and left with his own thoughts, he tended to go on a rampage and destroy everything in sight.

But maybe if he destroyed something he’d feel a little better.

Hopefully.

He was washing the dishes, and a short time had passed before he heard a giant crash from outside. He jumped, and dropped the dish in his hands onto the floor. It shattered into three pieces, and Jack went to pick it up when he heard another crash, sending him onto his ass.

He scrambled up, and hurried outside to see what the commotion was. His eyes immediately landed on the shop, and it was there he found Bruce and one of the Cooper’s he had designed.

Bruce had a mallet in his hands, and was smashing giant dents into the car. He was crying again, but they seemed to be angry tears this time, and he broke the side view mirrors right off of the side of the car before going for the poor excuse of a windshield.

Glass was all around his bare feet, and he was stepping in it, but he didn’t seem to care. All he cared about was creating holes in that Cooper.

Jack ran out, and down the porch steps and to Bruce. He was wary of the glass and did his best to step around it as he made his way to him. He grabbed the mallet as Bruce brought his arms back to swing, and he lowered it as he pulled Bruce to his chest with his other arm, before forcing him down onto the ground.

Bruce dropped the mallet, and cried out as Jack just wrapped his other arm around him.

He glanced down at Bruce’s feet, and saw all the cuts and glass sticking out of them, and they were covered in blood. Bruce gripped his shirt, and made him feel like he was choking, but there was nothing he could do about it. _One thing at a time,_ he thought, _one thing at a time._


	20. Silent

At one point in his life, Jack had wished that Bruce would just be quiet and sit there, wherever they were at. Of course Bruce always listened to people, and there were moments were he just enjoyed listening to what others had to say.  
But now? Now there was nothing.

“Bruce? Would you like to go out?” he asked, popping his head into Bruce’s room.

No response.

“I was thinking maybe we could go out to dinner. There’s this new diner that just opened, and I heard it was very good,” he offered, trying to incite a reply.

Again, no response.

Jack had thought it was bad when Timmy had died, but now with the passing of Jim, Jack rather be back at that point in his life over this any day.

He left, hoping that Bruce would wonder downstairs eventually.

He came up two hours later with a glass of water and a plate of food. “Bruce?” he called.

Bruce didn’t respond.

“I brought you food?”

Bruce rolled over, and pulled the sheets over his head.

Jack’s stomach clenched, and he set the plate and cup on the bedside table, before letting him be.

He would just . . . have to try again tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i guess i should point out that jack would be hurting too from jim's death, but i figured he'd have better coping skills then bruce.


	21. Different

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> another part from the werreeewolffff au

Bruce watched Jack, unsure of what to do or say. He had been sitting by himself outside, and staring off into the woods for over an hour. He was giving off an aura of sadness, causing most of the pack to steer clear away from him.

“You should talk to him,” Jim said, causing Bruce to jump and whip around. The back door was wide open, indicating that was where he had entered. “This is a lot to take in, after all he is a were now. It must be hard for him to comprehend.”

Bruce pursed his lips. “I know this, but I don’t know if he wants to talk to me.”

“Of _course_ he does! That’s all he smells like besides sadness, he wants you to come out and talk to him,” Jim said, shaking his head at Bruce, “For being so smart, you are kind of dumb.”

Bruce scowled.

“Go out and talk to him. You’re the one that brought him into this world; help him comprehend what’s going on.”

Jim pushed Bruce towards the door, and Bruce resisted until he got a few feet away. Then he straightened up, and sent one last glare at Jim, before walking outside to join Jack.

He sat down next to Jack, and bit his lip. “I’m sorry,” he apologized, causing Jack to look at him. “I realize that this isn’t something you wanted, and that if I had stopped Chris in time you wouldn’t be like this. I wish things had gone differently.”

Jack looked at him and frowned. “What are you talking about?”

Bruce rambled on, ignoring Jack’s comment. “I know this isn’t the most ideal situation and you probably want to go home. I’m sorry that you can’t, but I will help you make the best transition possible and I will try to make this feel like home and—”

Jack cut him off by kissing him.

He jerked back at first, shocked, then leaned into it, and put an arm around the back of Jack’s head, digging his fingers into his hair.

Jack pulled away seconds later, and panted hard. “I don’t _care_ that I can’t go home, I don’t care that Chris gave me the ‘curse’, and I really, really, don’t want to go home,” he said, pressing his forehead against Bruce’s, “You’re my home now, and you have been for a long time.”

Bruce looked at Jack, and he still seemed sad. “Aren’t you scared that you’re a werewolf now? This is so much more different then what you have been raised as, and I don’t want this to—”

“I am _fine_ ,” Jack said, grinning widely. “I feel so much more alive.”

Bruce went quiet, and then asked, “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure,” he said, pulling Bruce close.

A loud whistling sound rang off in the distance, followed by Dan yelling, “ _Get some ass, McLaren!_ ” Jack laughed, along with the group of weres nearby, and the only thing Bruce could think about doing was bury his face against Jack’s shoulder, completely embarrassed.

“I’m sorry that they are like this,” Bruce apologized.

Jack smiled. “Don’t, I really like them,” he replied.

He groaned, “You won’t for very long.”

Jack stared down at him, laughed, and then just pulled him into a tighter hug.


	22. Enthralled

Hoisting the trophy above his head, he stared at it with a look of wonder and surprise. This really should not have happened to him, but it did, and he couldn’t believe it.

He had become the youngest drive to win a grand prix, and this was only his second season in Formula One. Before this day, people were questioning him, wondering if he was really the proper choice for Cooper’s fourth car entry. Some people, apparently, didn’t even know his name.

But after he crossed the finish line, and the confusion on which Cooper had crossed the line had cleared, he was suddenly interesting to everyone. Reporters had run up to him as soon as he got out of the car, proclaiming that he would be the next world champion someday, maybe the next season or the one after that. He thought it was stupid, but his adrenaline was still pumping hard in his veins and he still wasn’t one hundred percent sure that this was real.

Bruce smiled at Maurice Trintignant—one of his teammates—and threw an arm around him, before placing the trophy down and throwing his other arm around Tony Brooks.

  
His eyes darted over the crowd, and he waved at the team with his arm still around Tony’s shoulders, but as soon as his eyes landed on Jack his smile widened and he pulled his arm out from around Tony’s shoulders to wave at him.

Jack smiled at him, and tried his best to look excited, but Bruce knew very well that he was irritated and tired—he had ran out of gas on the last lap, and had to push his car across the line. Not to mention the only reason he had run out of gas was because of his own mistake, he had decided not to start the race on a full tank.

But it paid off, Bruce supposed. Jack had his first world championship, and Bruce was sure as soon as they were done celebrating this, they would move onto Jack and forget all about them. But he would get to have his moment, no matter how short it was.

Jack was making his way through the crowd towards him, and Bruce left the podium to meet him halfway. Jack pulled him into an embrace, and Bruce hugged him tight as Jack said, “I’m _so_ proud of you.”

“Thank you,” he said, pulling back and grinning so hard his cheeks were starting to hurt. “Congratulations, world champion.”

Jack smiled at him, but there was still a hint of sadness in his gaze.

Bruce patted him on the shoulder, and then they were separated by the crowd, one half of it wanted to talk to Bruce and the other wanted to talk to Jack.

As he lost him in the crowd, he couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed. _You’ll get to see him later_ , he thought, _just try to enjoy this._ So he put on a façade, smiled, and answered all of their questions.


	23. Pillow Fort

Jack stared at the pillow fort that had just seemed to appear in the middle of the living room with barely contained confusion. He had been gone for an hour and had left Bruce home alone, and now he was home and there was . . . _this_ in the middle of the room.

Not to mention, as far as he knew, it wasn’t his weekend to have Geoff over. Did Bruce promise to babysit someone’s kid and just didn’t tell him?  


“Bruce?” he called, glancing towards the stairs and then back to the pillow fort.

There was movement, and suddenly Bruce’s head appeared from a hole in the top of the fort. “Yeah?” he replied, staring at Jack like nothing was wrong.

“Are you babysitting?” Jack asked.

Bruce frowned. “. . . No? What gave you that idea?”

Jack motioned to the pillow fort, and Bruce grinned. “Oh, this thing? I built this by myself. I got bored and these were always fun to do as a kid,” he said, then ducked his head back in for a second, “there’s enough room, you should come in here.”

Jack laughed, and walked into the kitchen. There was no wall separating the kitchen and living room, so he got full view of Bruce’s head slowly rising out of the roof. “Why are you laughing?”

He looked at Bruce, who was pouting, and he said, “I’m not laughing at you, I’m just laughing because you’re asking me to get in a pillow fort with you, and I’m thirty years old. I thought at this point in my life that wouldn’t be something I’d hear.”

Bruce lowered his face halfway under the sheets. “Oh, come on, stop pretending to be an adult and join me in here,” he said, then wiggled his eyebrows at him. “I know you want too.”

“After I put the groceries away.”

“No! Now,” Bruce said, crooking a finger at him, “that can wait!”

“Not the perishables,” Jack said, putting milk in the fridge.

“Hurry up then, and join me in my fort!”

“You’re so needy,” Jack said, rolling his eyes as he put the food away slowly. He could hear Bruce groan with every passing second, and he just kept on smiling.

Bruce could learn to have a little patience.


	24. Pain

Jack cuddled Bruce, who was in between Jack’s legs and had his head rested against Jack’s chest, and was shushing him as Dan held down his legs and Jim pushed down on the leg wound.

Bruce immediately called out and tried to kick at Jim and Dan, but Dan just pressed down harder on his ankles and Jack tightened his grip on him. He ran his hands through Bruce’s hair, and Bruce’s tears stained the front of his shirt as he screamed into Jack’s shirt.

Jim looked like he was on the brink of tears as he picked up the shirt, folded it inside out, and then pressed down on Bruce’s wound again.

Bruce sobbed, and his whole body went stiff. Jack glanced in the direction of their abandoned motorbikes, and hoped that Jackie would return quickly with the paramedics.

“I’m sorry,” Jim whispered, and started to cry, “I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry.”

Dan stared at him, and went to touch his cheek. “It’s not your fault, Jimmy—” he tried to say, but as soon as Bruce felt one of his legs were free he kicked his leg up right into the side of Dan’s face.

“But it was my idea too—” Jim started, but another cry from Bruce cut him off.

It wasn’t anyone’s fault, it was just an accident. They had decided to ride motorbikes across Jim’s farmland, and Bruce had hit a rut in the road, which sent him off and colliding into a rock. They had all thought he was fine at first, because the hit hadn’t been very hard, but then he stood up and there was blood all over one side of his trousers.

Jackie had left immediately on his bike to go call for an ambulance.

“It hurts, it hurts, it hurts . . .” Bruce repeated, over and over again. “Just cut it off, I hate this fucking leg anyways.”

Jack squeezed him tight, and no one found it in themselves to laugh. Bruce coughed. “Come on guys, laugh, it’d make me feel better,” he croaked, gripping at Jack’s hand and holding back a scream as Jim pressed down on his wound.

They all somehow managed a weak chuckle, and Bruce said, “You all are making me feel so much better. I’m the one in pain and I am trying to make a joke!”

“To be fair, you never had good timing,” Dan said.

“Oh, shut up!” Bruce said, causing Jim and Jack to chuckle a little. They heard sirens in a distance, and then saw Jackie appear around the corner on a bike. “That was fast,” Bruce muttered, “maybe he should take up a new job?”


	25. Fear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> more from the werewolf au

Well, Jack was very much fucked. He tried not to grimace as one of the hunters shoved the barrel of the gun against his forehead. The hunter’s German Shepherds growled at him, and would probably be ripping him to shreds if they weren’t on a leash.

“Tell us where the fuckin’ werewolf lives,” the hunter snapped, “our dogs can smell it on you, so there’s no use in lyin’.”

“There is no werewolf here,” Jack replied, trying to keep his voice even, “There was one once, but it’s gone. You won’t find any.” He prayed that somehow Bruce would get here, that he would somehow know Jack was in danger, and would come out here to save him, but he knew it was a stupid thought. Bruce coming out here would put him in serious danger, especially if he came alone.

The hunter laughed. “You think that we don’t know about you and that one were? We’ve seen you two together. We know that there’s one here.”

The dogs snapped at him, and Jack cursed his luck. _Of **course** they saw us together, _Jack thought bitterly. But he shook his head, and said, “He’s gone now. He was a loner, was just passing through.”

The whole group then broke into laughter, and Jack’s face flushed. They must have been watching them longer then he thought.

“Look, I—” he started to say, when there was a sudden loud crash from the right, from across the stream. Their heads whipped around to look at the brush, and a dark brown werewolf was standing there, growling and jerking his head back and forth.

At first Jack thought it was Bruce, mainly because the pelts were the same color and he held himself very much the same way that Bruce did. But then the were raised its head, and Jack saw the drool running down its face, the crazed look in its eyes, and Jack knew instantly it wasn’t Bruce.

The were growled, then darted across the river and was suddenly upon them, snapping the neck of the hunter that had threatened Jack and then leaping into the group of hunters. Some of the hunters ran, but most of them stayed put. The were knocked them all over to incapacitate them, before he turned towards Jack.

Jack tried to make himself as non-threatening as possible—per Bruce’s instructions—but the were was on him, and before he knew it there was pain in his shoulder. The werewolf was only on him long enough to bite him before he had been knocked off.

Jack yelped, and then sat up. His blood was pumping loudly in his ears, and all of his nerves felt like they had been electrocuted. His eyes scanned the clearing for the were, his breathing becoming labored.

A new werewolf had joined the fight, and Jack could tell immediately who it was from the slight gimp. He was so relieved that Bruce was here, but he seemed too preoccupied with the other were to realize that there were hunters surrounding them.

He tried to call out to them, but he couldn’t find his voice, and his vision had gone blurry. He knew what had happened, and he knew that in this state he would be of no use to Bruce.

So, he got up and stumbled his way across the stream. A bullet grazed his already injured shoulder, and he yelped as he fell to the ground. But then he heard one of the were’s yelp and his mind instantly went to Bruce, so he quickly forced himself up.

He had no idea if he was going in the right direction, but Bruce had once told him to just go straight if he needed to find the pack, so he tried to head in that direction.

As he stumbled along, things started to change. His hearing became more sensitive, and his sense of smell as well. His eye sight was still shit, but he decided that he’d just have to smell his way through.

He knew he was going in the right direction when the smells became more congregated, and the trees suddenly disappeared to reveal a giant clearing. He looked around blindly and called out, “Help! Please, I need help.”

He fell to the ground and heard people rush over to him. Some people gasped when they saw him, and could smell that he was a recently turned were, but the others ignored it in favor of helping him.

“Please!” he exclaimed, “A-a friend of mine, he belongs to your pack, and he’s being attacked by hunters! I-I think there’s another member of your pack there, too.”

A small pair of hands grabbed him, and lowered him onto the ground, murmuring something in French to him.

Another pair of hands grabbed his shoulder. “Who did this to you?” the man—obviously a Scot—asked.

“I-I don’t know, and it doesn’t matter! There are two members of your pack being attacked by hunters!” Jack exclaimed, and shot rang in the distance.

Children screamed, and whimpered. The sound of their whimpering soon became distant as their parents ushered them away.

The Scotsman turned to his remaining pack members. “Who’s not here?” he asked, as the Frenchman holding Jack ran his fingers through his hair.

A whimper was heard, and another Scotsman spoke up, “Bruce . . . he is not here. He ran away Chris, who had plummeted.”

“Shit,” the first Scot spoke, and stood up, “Jim, François, you stay here and watch over him. Everyone else, come with me.” There was the loud sound of clothes ripping, and fear grabbed Jack’s stomach.

He was basically sending this whole pack to its death, and he had most certainly already sent Bruce to his death. He whined as the Frenchman shushed him, and he blacked out, the nauseous feeling not leaving him.


	26. Failed

He had failed. It was plain and simple. His one and only job was to make sure Bruce would be okay, and that he would do his best to make sure he lived through this terrible sport.

He couldn’t even do that. He felt like an utter failure.

He knew very well that this was something you couldn’t control. It just . . . happened. If it was something that you could prevent by just teaching someone how to be good enough, Lorenzo and Jim wouldn’t be dead. Hell, a lot of people wouldn’t be dead.

He knew that Bruce’s parents didn’t blame him for anything. How could they? He didn’t build the car, Bruce did, but he is the reason why Bruce got out of New Zealand and was thrown into this, where things suddenly got much faster and deadlier.

 In some part of his mind, he knew that this was so stupid for him to think about. But he couldn’t help it, taking the blame. Someone needed to take the blame, and in the end, this was his entire fault.

It was, one hundred percent his fault, in his mind, and he could never be persuaded otherwise.


	27. Rain

Races were hardly ever cancelled due to rain, but the GPDA had decided that today was just too dangerous for them to race, and had gotten it cancelled. Almost every driver hated driving at Monza anyways, it’s not like anyone was really sad that the race was cancelled.

Most of them felt better knowing that there was no possibility of losing someone today.

Bruce jumped as someone taped his shoulder and tried to hand him a drink. He wasn’t sure what was in it, but nevertheless he took it. As soon as the driver was no longer looking, he dumped it out and threw the cup away.

Drivers were darting back and forth between garages, trying to keep dry and trying to talk to as many drivers as they could before they all decided to clear out.

Bruce looked at Jim, who was smiling at Piers Courage. Piers had just handed him a drink as well, and patted Jim on the shoulder before disappearing. Jim immediately tossed it into the bin.

Bruce grinned, and Jim blushed when he realized that he had watched him throw that cup away. “Was that rude of me?” Jim asked, “I didn’t know what was in it, Piers wouldn’t tell me and I rather not drink something without knowing what’s in it.”

“I did the same,” Bruce replied, patting him on the shoulder much like Piers had done moments before. “I think that new kid Jacky tried giving me one?”

Jim’s eyes widened. “There’s a second Jacky?” he asked.

Bruce chuckled. “Yes, his last name is Ickx I believe. Drove for Tyrrell?”

Jim frowned and he looked away. “Hm,” he hummed, and seemed deep in thought, as if he was trying to see if he remembered meeting another Jacky. While he was thinking about that, Dan took the opportunity to slide up next to him.

“Don’t think too hard,” he said into his ear, causing Jim to jump, “I don’t want you to hurt yourself.” He grinned, and raised the cup to his lips.

Jim rolled his eyes. “Do you remember meeting another Jacky? Apparently there is one,” he said.

Dan frowned. “There’s another Jacky?”

Bruce smiled at that, and Jim nudged Dan. “Do you know what’s in that drink?” he asked, glancing down into the cup, “Piers handed me one and I dumped it.”

Dan replied, “Well, I’m not one hundred percent sure what's in it, but—”

Bruce didn’t notice Jack appear next to him, and he nearly jumped out of his skin when he felt a hand wrap over his wrist.

“Relax, it’s just me,” he said with a laugh.

Bruce relaxed, and interlaced their fingers briefly. He glanced down towards Jack other hand to see it was empty. “A rookie hasn’t tried to persuade you into having a drink yet?” he asked.

Jack frowned. “What are you talking about?” he asked.

“Piers and Jacky Ickx just tried to give Jim and I drinks,” Bruce responded, and while Jack still looked confused, he nodded.

“I see,” he said, wiping a hand across his forehead. Bruce noticed the little droplets of rain littering his forehead, and raised his hand up to brush them away.

He quickly dropped his hand and dried them on his trousers. Jack went to say something, when a sudden shout broke through the air. Bruce whipped around to look for the source of the noise, when Jim ran out passed him followed by Dan. Jim’s hair and the top of his shirt were all wet, like someone had dumped a water bottle over his head.

And considering Dan dropped one as he ran out after him, that seemed to be what had happened.

Everyone in the garage watched as Jim tried to escape Dan’s clutches, but Dan was simply too fast—or in everyone else’s united opinion, too long legged—and he caught up fast.

He grabbed Jim around the middle, picked him up, and twirled him as Jim laughed and kicked his legs. Both of them were completely soaked after only being out in the rain for less then a minute, but they were both grinning widely, and then suddenly there was a flood of people leaving the garage as drivers, team members, and spectators joined them in the rain.

“They’re going to get caught someday,” Bruce said as he and Jack made their way towards the garage entrance, “If they’re not cautious.”

Jack shrugged. “Let them enjoy this moment,” he said, and glanced around, “it seems everyone is too far gone already to notice this.” Bruce gripped Jack’s bicep.

“I hope you’re right,” he murmured, “I’d hate to wake up tomorrow and find out that they were arrested.”

“It’s not going to happen,” Jack reassured, before he grabbed Bruce’s arm and tugged him towards the rain.

Bruce resisted, and shook his head. “I’m not going out there,” he said, “I’d prefer to stay dry, thank you.” Jack rolled his eyes. He knew that that wasn’t the real reason why Bruce was so wary to go out into the rain. Jack pushed him back a little bit into the empty garage, and kissed him on the cheek.

“Come on, it’ll be fine,” he tried to persuade, but Bruce held his ground. “If you get sick, I promise I’ll take care of you.”

Bruce raised an eyebrow. “That is something I’ll have to accept, because it’s not something I get to hear every day,” he said, grinning widely as Jack tugged him out into the rain, but Jack could still feel the tension in his shoulders.


	28. Lace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i blame flirt for this kink

Jack stared at Bruce, his jaw hanging open and his hands gripping his knees. Bruce leaned back on his heels, and placed his hands behind his back, unsure of what to say or do.

“Um . . . do you like it?” Bruce asked, bringing his hands out from behind his back to wring his hands together. Jack broke out of his trance, but still continued to look at him with wide eyes. “I tried to do it to the best of my abilities, considering they really don’t make this sort of thing for men . . .”

“No, I—” Jack stopped, coughed, and swallowed heavily. “It’s . . . perfect.” His eyes dragged over Bruce’s body, taking him in.

He didn’t know how or where Bruce had gotten these garments, but he would be eternally grateful to whatever store managed to have these. Bruce was wearing light orange silk stockings with white lace around the edges, and similar looking panties. When he had originally confessed to this dirty secret of his, he had felt ashamed, and knew that Bruce probably would never do any of it.

But he had, and Jack wondered how he got so lucky.

Bruce’s face turned red, and he brushed his hair back, biting down on his lower lip. Jack motioned him over, and he spread his legs a bit so Bruce could sit comfortably in his lap.

“You’re amazing,” Jack whispered as ran his hands up Bruce’s thighs, over the soft silk. He messed with the lace along his panties, and pulled on them a little bit.

Bruce hit his hands away. “You’ll stretch them out,” he muttered, and then gasped as Jack dragged his fingers down the outline of his cock.

“I’ll buy you new ones,” Jack replied, kissing Bruce’s shoulder blade as he grabbed his ass and pulled their hips together.

Bruce moaned as their cocks rubbed together, and bit down on his knuckles, staring down at their laps as their bodies moved together.

“I can’t wait to fuck you,” Jack whispered into Bruce’s ear, making him shiver, “Would you like that? For me to fuck you in your stockings?”

“Very much so,” Bruce replied, before kissing him on the mouth, and placing a hand at the back of Jack’s head, keeping him there.

Jack dug his hand into Bruce’s panties, and briefly stroked his cock as he bit down on Bruce’s lip.

Bruce’s hips jerked up, and he whined a little bit, pulling away from the kiss to bury his face in Jack’s shoulder.

Jack gripped underneath his thighs, and hoisted him up, carrying him to the bed. When Bruce felt them come to an abrupt halt, he leaned back and was dropped onto the bed, limbs all over the place.

Jack rubbed Bruce’s cock through his underwear, and when Bruce started to get impatient, he instead turned his attention to the lace, and rubbed it between his fingertips. “ _Jack_ ,” Bruce whined, obviously frustrated.

“Hmm . . .” Jack hummed, and then ran his fingers down Bruce’s legs. “I really like the lace . . . you should buy a pair that are completely like these.”

Bruce squirmed, and arched his back. “I bet you would like that, wouldn’t you?” he asked, as Jack hooked fingers in his panties and slowly pulled them down.

Jack bent over, and kissed Bruce’s hip bone. “Yes . . . I very much would,” he said before taking Bruce’s cock in his mouth, causing him to let out a moan, grip the bed, and arch his back.


	29. Happy

Bruce jerked awake to the sound of a rooster calling in the distance. He groaned, rolled over, and buried his face in Jack’s chest, who was still asleep. He sighed, and scrubbed a hand across his face.

He peered at the clock on the beside table, and groaned when he saw it was six o’ clock, although it shouldn’t have been a surprise. That rooster always ‘screamed’—as Dan not so distastefully put it—at six in the morning, and they had been here long enough it should be normal.

He laid his head back down, and snuggled closer to Jack, glad for the warmth. At Jim’s house, it was unnaturally cold and blankets did hardly anything to keep you warm. Dan and Jim didn’t seem to notice that it was cold in their home, and when Bruce had brought it up they just told him to pile on more blankets.

He shook his head at the thought, and adjusted slightly on the bed. He closed his eyes, and got rid of those irritated thoughts about Dan and Jim—who he was sure were just messing with him—and decided to just enjoy this moment.

Jim’s farm was the only place where the two of them could go and just be themselves, without the fear of being arrested for loving another man. This farm held so many of Bruce’s happiest memories, and it’s probably one of the main reasons why none of them had gotten caught yet.

Bruce remembered all of the times they spent together, when they would go to the lake and get drunk out there, make drunken sex (when it was only the two of them) and then fall asleep under the stars. Or when they would take walks together through the forest, just enjoying each other’s presence and how far away they seemed from the rest of the world. Bruce remembered at one point Dan saying how they could screw at literally every point on Jim’s farm and never get caught once. Jim promptly hit him and claimed that that would never happen, and was so embarrassed that he made Dan sleep on the couch.

Bruce smiled, and buried his face against Jack’s neck. Even though neither of them owned the land, Bruce felt like this place had become home. Hell, he even had clothes and some other personal belongings stored here. When he was mad at Jack and couldn’t stand to stay in their apartment, he’d come out here and stay until they made up, like he was running home to his parents. It seemed silly, but that’s what this was.

Home.


	30. Roses

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter hasnt been edited sorry

Jack stared down at the roses behind the glass, and felt absolutely drained. He shouldn’t be doing this. Not now, not for a long, long time should he be doing this. Buying roses for a dead spouse—which was exactly what he was in Jack’s mind—should have been far, far down the road.

But here he was, buying roses for said dead spouse, and trying to find ones that were at least somewhat presentable.

Which was an idiotic thing to worry about, because he was dead and he wouldn’t really know the difference anymore between a wilted rose and a fresh one would he?

But he would feel horrible if there really _was_ an afterlife and he didn’t give Bruce the proper respect that he deserved.

So, he pulled the least wilted bouquet out of the cabinet, and made his way to the counter.

The cashier smiled at him, and he only managed a sad look in return. She immediately dropped the smile, and asked quietly, “Who are these for?” as she rang him up.

“I really do believe that it is none of your business,” he replied, voice even. She only smiled at him sadly, and once he paid he grabbed his purchase, turned on heel, and exited the store quickly. He really did not want or need the sympathies of a random lady; he had enough of that from the others.

Briskly, he walked down the street, not really sure if he knew exactly where he was going, but his feet guided him there without fail.  
They always did, it was like going to his parent’s house or his house or their old apartment, hell even Jim’s house or Bruce’s house, which he didn’t go to very often.

He arrived outside the cemetery gates, and he could feel all of his energy slowly drain from him as he walked in. It happened every time, and each time got harder then the last, not easier as some would have expected.

It’s hard for things to get better when every time you look at that dirt covered plot, you realize the love of your life is six feet under and you never even got to say goodbye.

People say that saying goodbye at funerals is the same, that if you get out what you need to say there then you won’t feel guilty.

Well, Jack got it all out, and here three weeks later, he still felt like a piece of shit.

He sniffed, wiped his nose on the back of his sleeve, and continued on.

He cut through the grass, heading directly to Bruce’s grave and flinching slightly when he saw bouquets of flowers scattered over the dirt. From family members, friends, people who just wanted to pay their respects, Jack didn’t know.

All he knew that when he put his flowers down in the pile, his looked pathetic compared to everyone else’s. Everyone else had gone to huge lengths to find flowers that were in bloom, and no sign of them starting to wilt in sight. It almost brought him to tears right on the spot, thinking how could he present these to Bruce when people who could have been nothing more then strangers could find better?

He looked towards the headstone, his shoulders tense. It never got easier, seeing his name and dates up there. Every time he looked at it, he thought that the world was trying to mock him. Trying to punish him for thinking that something like this could never happen to the people he loved and cared about like family or himself.

Oh no, the world had to prove this twice by first killing Jim, and then Bruce. One was not enough, they had to really prove to him that this sport wasn’t just something that you could skirt through and live. Or that it wasn’t something that took people that no one cared about, that it took people that the whole world loved and then grieved for when they were taken.

It was unfair, it was stupidly unfair. But that was the world they lived in, wasn’t it? An unfair world that would just take everything, no matter how hard you tried to protect it, it would be gone before you even knew it.

The saddest part to Jack was that he never even got to tell Bruce he loved him. Sure things were said that resembled it, like the ever so passed around, “I _adore_ you,” and “You’re so amazing, I cannot believe I was lucky enough to meet someone like you,” but neither of them ever said ‘I love you’ to the other.

Bruce had tried to once, when he was seventeen. He was drunk, and had been trying to woo him all night. “I’m old enough now,” Bruce had said, falling into Jack’s arms, “You _can_ fuck me.”

But Jack had told him he was too young still, and then Bruce had hiccupped before trying to say, “But I loveeee youuuuu.”

Jack had promptly interrupted him and responded, “You don’t know what love is,” before leaving Bruce at the track drunk. It was something he deeply regretted, and he wished at the time he hadn’t been so foolish.

He was such a fool. He had thought that they would have had more time together, but he was wrong, and now he had to live with the consequences of not saying what he had wanted to say.

He kneeled on the ground before the headstone, and tried to hold back tears. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, hunching his shoulders. “I’m sorry I never told you that I loved you. I’m sorry that you died not knowing. Or maybe you did know that I loved you, I don’t know. I hoped you did. But I am sorry I never expressed it. I don’t know if you ever cared about that or not, but either way I’m sorry. You deserved better.”

He wiped the tears away, and muttered, “You deserved so, so much better.”

He didn’t know what else to say, other then that Bruce deserved much more then what Jack could give him.

Jack sniffed, and slowly made his way to his feet. Betty was going to be angry when she found out that Jack took a detour to visit Bruce again. Drying his face with the sleeve of his shirt, he took one last look at the grave. “Goodbye Bruce, I love you,” he muttered, before turning and quickly exiting the cemetery.

 


End file.
